


More Than Fireworks

by Burning_Up_A_Sun



Series: Georgia On My Mind [1]
Category: Check Please! (Webcomic)
Genre: Alicia is too, Coach is a good dad, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, First Time Topping, Fourth of July, M/M, Madison - Freeform, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Sleeping Together, Suzanne is a cinnamon roll, too pure too good for this world
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-29
Updated: 2016-05-03
Packaged: 2018-06-05 06:05:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 9,954
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6692569
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Burning_Up_A_Sun/pseuds/Burning_Up_A_Sun
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack visits Madison, and it's the first time he's touched Bitty since The Graduation Kiss. He's sure Bitty's parents will watch them like hawks, but someone's on their side.</p><p>This is fully written, and I will post one ch a day. The rest of the chapters are much longer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. July 2 2015

**Author's Note:**

> Canonically, Jack gets to Madison on 7/3. But I didn't know that til the entire fic was plotted and then I just shrugged. So yeah. in this fic, Jack arrives 7/2. 
> 
> This was a very different fic before [Crowgirl](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Crowgirl) and [ElizaJane](http://archiveofourown.org/users/elizajane) said "you can do better." and Mags, who laughs at my dreadful writing so that i *can* do better.
> 
> The title is from Omi's "Fireworks"

_“Honey, look! My second cousin’s grandbaby is turning one tomorrow.” Suzanne flashed her phone toward her husband. “We should go.”_

_“What? What are you talking about?” Coach didn’t look up from the sports section._

_Suzanne tapped the phone’s screen. “Baby Jake is turning one. Let’s drive to Birmingham tomorrow for the party. You can buy a football or something at that giant sports store you’ve always wanted to visit.”_

_Coach forced his attention away from the newspaper. “Suzanne, you know darn well we can’t go. Junior’s hockey friend is coming tomorrow. It would be rude.”_

_“First, it’s not every day your second cousin’s grandbaby turns one. Second, the boys can fend for themselves. And we can spend the night in that bed and breakfast on the way home.”_

 

“--And then, Dear Lord, help me, if all that wasn't bad enough, she winked at my father. Winked. Like she had--designs on him!” Bitty rolled onto his back and stretched lazily, alone now in his bed.

Jack laughed, tickled by Bitty’s shock. He padded back from the bathroom with a warm cloth and gently cleaned Bitty’s stomach before climbing back into the bed.

“Maybe they still have—sex,” Jack whispered as he kissed the constellation of freckles on Bitty’s shoulder.

“Jack, I’m still trying to get my heart back under control. You can’t say things like that. You’ll kill me.”

Jack laughed again, his breath tickling Bitty’s neck. “I don’t know, mon chéri. Your parents drove three hours to see a second cousin’s grandchild? That’s odd.”

Bitty yawned and wiggled his bottom back against Jack’s thighs. “It’s a Southern thing, honey. That’s basically immediate family.”

Before Jack could disagree again, Bitty was sound asleep.

Jack listened to the quiet in and out of Bitty’s breathing, barely audible over the constant hum of the air conditioner. Too keyed up to sleep, Jack offered a prayer of thanks for this privacy he and Bitty had been gifted. The Bittles’ trip to Birmingham was unexpected, allowing them to sleep in the same bed for the first time. And they wouldn’t be back until tomorrow afternoon. Jack was still smiling when he fell asleep, his lips resting against the back of Bitty’s head.


	2. July 3, 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bitty's mom is SO kind. She invites Jack's parents to visit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this one's long :D

“I’m not going to come between you and your mama. Go. Skype.” Bitty leaned over to kiss Jack, who was lying on the couch with the computer on his legs. He’d hoped to spend their last few minutes alone together in bed or the shower, but Bitty insisted Jack make his weekly call to his parents.

Besides, Bitty's parents were due back any minute; Jack knew exactly where they were, thanks to the never ending stream of text messages from Mrs. Bittle.

 

_**Leaving Birmingham now, sweetie. See you in 3 hours or so. Hope y’all were ok last night.** _

_**Oh, this is such a pretty rest area! You’d love it, pumpkin.** _

_**Yellow car!** _

_**We’ll be home in about 20 minutes, Dicky.** _

_**Coach passed a slow 18-wheeler. We’re making much better time!** _

 

Bad Bob answered the call with an “’ _Allo_!” and they spoke in rapid French. Bitty understood few words. _Bittle. Georgia. Carolina Hurricanes._

The kitchen door opened and Bitty’s mother blew in, already in mid-conversation, speaking in rapid Southern. About the traffic, the flowers blooming roadside, the third cousin once removed.

"Dicky, you should have met cousin Jake. He was adorable. Towhead curls and chubby cheeks. He reminded me of a certain young man until he started skating. "

"Mother!" Bitty snapped as his mother kissed his cheeks. "Jack's Skyping his parents."

"Hello, Jack!" Suzanne kissed the top of Jack's head. "Good to see you. Sorry we weren't…"

"Mama. _Stop_. Jack is talking to his parents."

Suzanne looked at the computer screen. "Hello, Bob! How are you?"

Jack's father said something that made Suzanne giggle and Jack cringe.

"You’re in North Carolina? My goodness! You're just a hop and a skip away. Y’all have to come visit."

With a bright, beautiful smile, Alicia’s face replaced Bob’s on the screen.

"Mrs. Zimmermann—Yes, of course, and call me Suzanne. We’d love to have y’all come and stay.…We insist…Oh my goodness, yes! See you around seven. We'll hold dinner.”

She returned the computer to Jack with a warm smile, but when she turned to Bitty, her eyes looked wild. She hissed, "Clean. _Now_. Jack's parents are coming. Strip your bed. Dust and vacuum your room. Scrub your bathroom.”

Suzanne simultaneously shouted out chores they needed to do, created a shopping list, and rummaged through the freezer for _something decent to serve_. In the middle of this, she whirled around and gasped. She even left the freezer and refrigerator doors open. “Oh. My. Word. There's no place for _you two_ to sleep."

Skype call over, Jack packed away his computer. “My parents will be fine in a hotel.”

“Lord, no, Jack. What would they think of us? You and Dicky are going to have to stay at the hotel. You don't mind, do you?” She didn’t wait for an answer, just called the local Quality Inn and reserved a room with two double beds. That settled, she grabbed a package of chicken from the freezer. “We’ll just have a good ol’ fashioned Southern barbecue. And Coach can grill. That will make him feel all manly.”

She hugged Bitty’s shoulder. “Thank you for being so understanding.” With a peck to his cheek, she was off to clean, still calling out last minute directions to Coach.

"You make a lot of sense now." Jack smiled at Bitty, happily taking each cleaning supply Bitty thrust into his chest.

"Lordy, don't chirp me now, Jack Zimmermann. We don't have time." Bitty quickly kissed Jack before hauling him up the hall to his room.

Jack had hoped that, since they were in a room behind closed doors, they might kiss a little before they began Suzanne’s chores, but Bitty immediately started on the bed, removing the chenille bedspread and stripping the sheets into a pile on the floor.

"I liked what we did to the sheets _last night_ better." Jack smiled over the bed as Bitty tucked in one side of the clean sheets.

Bitty blushed. He looked up through his lashes at Jack and giggled.

The next six hours passed in a haze of lemon furniture polish and window cleaner fumes. If Jack stopped cleaning, one Bittle or another prodded him to keep moving. Jack watched the volume of chores weigh on Bitty, until it pulled down Bitty’s shoulders and sat in his neck and jaw.

When Suzanne asked Coach to go with her to the market for fresh vegetables, Bitty put Jack to work peeling apples. “I have a new recipe. It won’t have my lattice on top, but I think all y’all will like it.”

Jack smiled at Bitty, and after glancing around to confirm they were alone, stole a kiss; Bitty slowed down long enough to return it. Then he dropped his head to Jack’s shoulder and rested a moment. Jack’s hands were apple-juice sticky, and he couldn't touch Bitty the way he wanted--card his fingers through Bitty’s hair, trace the curve of his ear, drag his fingertip across Bitty’s collarbone. Instead he brushed his cheek against Bitty’s hair, damp from the oven’s warmth that the air conditioning couldn't overcome. It made Jack homesick for the Haus: the scent of Bitty’s shampoo mixed with the cinnamon and maple aromas. _It’s not the Haus. It’s Bitty. It was always Bitty._

“Are you okay with your parents coming?” Bitty said, his face buried in Jack’s shirt. “Mama never even asked you.” He looked up at Jack and smiled apologetically.

“It’s fine. They know about you and me.” Jack kissed Bitty’s forehead, which tasted like flour. He must have pushed his hair away while he was making the dough; soon, Bitty would taste like an entire pie, which made Jack chuckle.

“You don’t think they’ll say anything to my mother and Coach, do you? About us?” Bitty gnawed his bottom lip as he worked on the bottom crust again.

Jack grabbed another green apple from the bowl and attempted to perfect the art of peeling an apple in one long strip. “Bittle. First. My parents are good at knowing what not to say. But second, do you really think your parents don’t know?”

“Yes. And I aim to keep it that way, Jack Zimmermann. Now stop making a mess of my apples and peel.” Bitty laughed as he pointed to the grooves Jack had made in the apple as he worked the peel around. Jack grumbled about _too many cooks_ but was smart enough not to say anything outright. Bitty would banish him from the kitchen if he weren’t careful.

They talked and laughed, and with each press of the rolling pin, Jack saw the tension in Bitty’s neck and shoulders ebb, until he was chirping Jack for cutting the apple slices too thick. “They’re supposed to be thin, delicate slices, Mr. Zimmermann, not cubes for mashed potatoes.”

Jack felt the last of his own anxiety drift away, also. Since moving to Providence, he’d felt wrong-footed, unsure, but being here with Bitty was better than any prescription a doctor could write. And in truth, he was happy to see his parents. They’d know how much he’d changed. How he’d given some and received much, much more in return.

When he’d finished slicing the apples, Jack washed the residue from his hands and then wiped them dry on his shorts. He wrapped his arms around Bitty from behind, laying his chin on Bitty’s shoulder. This was what he wanted, as sure as he knew about hockey. Samwell. The Falconers. He wanted this with Bitty. He wanted to wrap his arms around Bitty whenever he wanted, to go weak-kneed at the touch of their bodies. To have his mind always erupt with filthy thoughts when he smelled flour or cinnamon.

Jack sighed as he withdrew his arms. “I love--” Jack gulped back what he almost mistakenly admitted. “--being here with you.”

Bitty smiled and lay his hand on Jack’s chest. “I love being here with you, too.”

~*~

Alicia and Bob arrived just after 7. Jack watched his parents closely as they met the Bittles--their happiness was unmistakable. He finally realized they were always touching. Holding hands, or interlocking little fingers. Sometimes, it was simply Bob’s hand on Alicia’s back. At that moment, Jack knew. Seeing his parents so obviously in love after more than 25 years together, he knew that he and Bitty would be the same.

They laughed through dinner (“Eric, these biscuits belong in the Hall of Fame,” Bob said with a smile as he bit into one), as they drank the soft, oaky wine the Zimmermanns had brought. For dessert, Bitty presented his Maple Sugar Apple Crumble, and they enjoyed the easy conversation over pie and coffee (“Eric, I need this recipe. Need,” Alicia said as she split the last wedge in half then rethought and took both).

“Goodness gracious, it’s half-past ten.” Suzanne cleared the table and refused the offers of help. “Y’all should get to the hotel. Get some rest.” She shooed the boys out of the kitchen with a “Call us tomorrow morning when you’re ready to meet for brunch!”

“Yes ma’am,” Bitty called over his shoulder as he and Jack grabbed their bags and left. Once they were inside the truck with the doors locked and the engine running--where no one could hear them--Bitty took Jack’s hand and kissed his palm. “Jack Zimmermann, you can’t do that to me.”

Jack laughed nervously, unsure what he’d done. But, with the way Bitty was kissing his fingers, he thought maybe it wasn’t bad. “I didn’t do anything.”

When Bitty responded, his voice was raw. “You sat at that supper table, looking like that.” Bitty waved his hand in front of Jack. “Being all respectful to my parents. Making little _hmmm_ noises when you enjoyed what you were eating. The Lord as my witness, I almost fell to my knees under the table right then.”

Bitty sucked Jack’s middle finger into his mouth, and as he withdrew, he scraped his teeth lightly up from the bottom knuckle. Before he released it, Bitty circled the tip with his tongue.

Jack whimpered, low and soft, and when he could speak, begged Bitty to get to the hotel. _Now._

Jack was amazed at how quickly Bitty could get them to the hotel, checked in and into their room. Before Jack could drop his duffle to the floor, Bitty crowded him against the door.

Bitty tugged Jack’s shirt from inside his waistband, pushing it up to reach skin; Jack shivered from the heat of Bitty’s hands, leaving trails lit with embers where his fingers touched. He wanted Bitty everywhere, exploring every inch of him. The back of his knees. The inside of his thighs. His belly button and his—

Jack hissed as Bitty’s tongue flicked at Jack’s nipple, hard and sensitive. His knees buckled, but he caught himself, bracing against the door as Bitty mapped Jack’s torso with lips and teeth and tongue. Jack moaned a breathy oh as Bitty mouthed over his hard cock, pushing against the fabric of his shorts.

Bitty stood up and kissed Jack. It wasn’t a gentle slide of lips patiently waiting, but something needy and filthy, fanning the embers Jack had felt smoldering since Bitty had taken his hand in the car.

“C’mere.” Jack took Bitty by the hand and led him to the bed, and with sass, Bitty pushed Jack backward. Jack let him, leaning back on his elbows, and Bitty held Jack’s gaze as he slowly unzipped Jack’s shorts and removed the rest of his clothing. Jack’s breath hitched as Bitty, with those big, full brown eyes still trained on Jack’s, traced his tongue slowly up Jack’s cock, sucking at the liquid pooling at the crown.

Jack whimpered again and arched up, but Bitty smiled. He backed away enough to yank his own shirt over his head. He dropped it to the floor and then shimmied out of his shorts, careful to pull the waistband over his cock, which lay hard and leaking against his stomach.

Eyes closed, Bitty wrapped his fist around himself and shuddered, his breathing ragged. That sound electrified Jack; he felt like this all the time now, like a hair line division between being hard and coming. He wanted Bitty every minute, loved it, needed it.

Needed him.

Bitty grabbed a bottle of lube from his overnight bag and climbed onto the bed. Jack took it from him and snuggled closer. “I never want to leave.”

“The hotel or Madison?”

“You.” Jack nuzzled Bitty’s neck. “I never want to leave you.”

Bitty inhaled sharply and blinked back tears. His warm breath tickled Jack as he kissed Jack’s forehead, his jaw, the dip of his collarbone. Bitty straddled Jack’s knees and dragged kisses down his body. Each time his lips met Jack’s skin, Bitty lit tiny fires of need and want.

Jack grabbed the sheets, willing himself to be still because he felt the heat of every touch. This was different than the fumbling he’d explored with Parse and Camille. They made him want less; Bitty made him want so much more of everything. More love, more touch, more feelings. He wanted to say _Bitty was worth the risk_ , but he already knew. Bitty wasn’t a risk at all.

Jack slowed their pace, cupping Bitty’s face in his large hands and showing him all of the feelings whirling inside.

“I’m no good with words, Bits—” Jack said against Bitty’s lips.

“I’m hearing you just fine, sweetheart.” Bitty pulled back far enough to look at Jack; he smiled and picked up the tube of lubrication. Slicking his palm, he took both of their cocks in his hand and rolled his hips. As the cocks slid with each movement of Bitty’s hips, Jack cried out, begging for more. More friction. More touch. More fire.

Jack wrapped his arms around Bitty and kissed him, bit into his shoulder, rolling his hips in time with Bitty’s, murmuring filthy things in Bitty’s ears.

“Tighter,” Jack begged. Bitty gripped harder and gasped; his hips changed their rhythm, stuttering. He buried his face in Jack’s neck and came over his fist. Jack’s tiny moans, his breathy words whispered in between kisses...Jack rocked forward, Bitty’s come slicking his movements. His pleasure was almost unbearable, hovering in the void between too much and not nearly enough. He arched into the touch, thrusting, thrusting until he collapsed against Bitty’s chest, sweating and panting; he swore he could feel Bitty’s heart race.

He wanted to tell Bitty he loved him. That he would give everything he was and everything he had and that he wasn’t even afraid.

But Jack didn’t want to scare Bitty because maybe it was too soon. With how hard his own heart battered his chest, Jack had no idea how Bitty would respond. And maybe, with come cooling on their bellies, this wasn’t the best time.

Jack rolled over toward Bitty, who was nodding off. He kissed Bitty’s forehead and roused him. “C’mon, Bittle. Let’s shower. You’ll hate yourself if you don’t.”

Bitty swore he was _just fine and wouldn’t blame Jack in the morning_ if he could just keep sleeping. Jack ran the shower and came back for Bitty, nudging him out of bed and under the water. With gentle haste, he washed and rinsed Bitty and then himself. He towel dried them before leading Bitty back to bed.

Bitty smiled sleepily. “A boy could get used to this treatment.”

Jack pulled the sheets back for them, and Bitty stood on tiptoe to thank him with a kiss. “Don’t get used to it, Bittle.”

Before Jack fell asleep lulled by Bitty’s soft snuffles, he tried to imagine them living together in Providence, Bitty baking and Jack reviewing game tapes. Falling asleep together and waking up together. Occasionally fighting and then making up in the best possible way.

Turned out, it wasn’t difficult to imagine at all.


	3. July 4th, Daytime

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> So much privacy in a hotel room and time to explore new things. And What could Suzanne have planned for the 4th of July?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your love and comments and kudos. <3

The next morning began with a proper shower, a luxury they hadn’t yet explored. They took turns washing each other, lathering the soap under arms and across bellies. Under feet and down legs. As Jack rinsed Bitty, he directed the showerhead’s tiny pulses at the underside of Bitty’s already hard cock, down lower to his balls. When Bitty widened his stance, Jack directed the stream at his perineum.

Bitty strangled his moan as he pulled Jack out of the shower, stopping only long enough to turn off the water.

“Want you,” Bitty said as he brought their mouths together, bumping noses in his haste. “So much. Now.” He leaned back against the bathroom wall, two fingers encircling the base of his cock to hold off his orgasm as Jack sucked at his neck, careful not to leave a bruise.

Without asking, Jack knelt in front of Bitty.

“You sure?” Bitty asked, pushing Jack’s wet hair from his forehead. “You don’t have to…”

Jack’s pulse raced; he’d never done this. Didn’t know _how_ to do this. But he hoped Bitty would like whatever he did. “Yeah, I know. I want to.” Jack watched Bitty’s smile grow with his admission.

Jack wet his lips and slid them over the head. He paused to catalogue the details of this moment, when he tasted Bitty this first time. The vague coconut scent from the hotel’s shampoo and soap. The water droplets that still clung to his body. The salty tang as he tongued over the slit. He would store all of this in his memory like photo album he could read when he missed Bitty.

“Mhmmmmmmm,” Bitty murmured, the sound echoing off the bathroom’s tile. He slid his fingers through Jack’s damp hair, mussing it up. “Lord Jesus, Jack, your mouth--”

Bitty’s phone rang almost at the same time as Jack’s text message alert pinged, momentarily drawing Jack’s attention toward the bedroom where they’d left their phones. What if someone needed --

“Don’t you _dare_ stop,” Bitty threatened as he tightened his grip on Jack’s hair. He arched his back and pushed the himself back toward Jack’s lips. Jack felt Bitty’s hands shaking as he tried to delay his orgasm.

“I _can’t_ stop,” Jack panted. With one hand he as he grabbed Bitty’s ass and pulled him closer; he wrapped the other around the base of Bitty’s cock. “You’re beautiful and—” He swallowed him as far as he could, working his tongue in tiny flicks back up to the slit.

Each time Bitty bucked further into Jack’s mouth, each time when Bitty was reduced to sounds instead of words, Jack’s heart hitched. He’d never given another person such intense pleasure, had never cared to, but right now, his entire world was Bitty and the fact that he, Jack, was capable of making him feel _this_ good.

Jack hollowed his cheeks and slowly pulled off, dragging his tongue over the sensitive skin on the underside of the head, Bitty’s knees buckled, and Jack held him even tighter, caressing that spot as Bitty snapped his hips again and again, crooning Jack’s name.

Each time Bitty cried out, Jack’s blood pounded harder in his veins, his chest, his cock that was beyond ready to release. Bitty’s voice echoed from the tile walls until he could no longer speak, and when he came over Jack’s tongue, the thick, creamy liquid caught Jack off guard. He closed his throat to stop himself from gagging, and when Bitty finished, Jack turned to the shower and spat out the come.

“Sorry,” he whispered as Bitty helped him to his feet.

Instead of saying anything, Bitty drew Jack’s mouth down to his, sliding his tongue over Jack’s, gently sucking the tip. Jack mewled, shaking from his own desire.

Bitty drew back and stared down at Jack’s cock, then wet his lips before he dropped to his knees and took in as much of Jack as he could. It was sloppy and unpracticed, but Jack didn’t care. He gasped at the warmth of Bitty’s mouth, allowing the feelings to envelop and overwhelm him. “I can’t hold off very long, _bébé_.”

Bitty lightly scraped his teeth along Jack’s length as he moved up and down. He hollowed his cheeks, providing as much suction as he could; Jack groaned at the sensation, then threw his head forward as he called out his warning. Bitty pulled off, and Jack grabbed his cock, jerking it once, twice, until his pulse striped Bitty’s face.

When he could open his eyes, Jack looked down at Bitty, who was smiling as he sat on the bathroom floor. He dragged his finger through one of the lines on his face and slipped it into his mouth, sucking it clean. Jack moaned and tucked that image into his wank bank.

Jack reached for a towel and wiped Bitty’s face clean. Bitty brought their mouths together. This soft, slow kiss was the most intimate they’d shared, the taste of Bitty’s orgasm still on his tongue. When they broke apart, Jack swayed at the loss.

“We should probably check our phones,” Bitty said as he grabbed a towel from the rack. Their mothers had left messages to meet at the Waffle House next to the hotel at 10:30, and that time had come and gone.

“Let me dry you off.” Bitty grinned, and Jack thought he was the most beautiful person he’d ever seen, with his swollen lips and messy hair.

“If you do, we’ll never leave this bathroom,” Jack said, and kissed Bitty’s pout. They dressed and combed their hair, but only time would help their swollen lips and flushed faces. With a smile, they caught the elevator to the lobby restaurant to meet their parents.

“It was nice of your mom to invite my parents,” Jack said as he caught sight of them in the crowded restaurant.

“Lordy, you need to know that my mother is a force of nature. When she sets her mind to something, you can’t stop her.” Bitty smiled and checked that his shirt looked tidy.

“Did she ask them so we’d have to come to the hotel? So, y’know—”

“My mother is clueless, Jack. You have no idea.”

Jack thought about Bitty’s words. Suzanne was kind and gracious, the epitome of Southern Hospitality. Maybe Bitty was right.

“Goodness. Were y’all out running already? You’re all flushed.” Suzanne asked as the boys joined the table. She reached around Jack to feel Bitty’s forehead. “Are you feeling ill? Maybe we should cancel our plans—”

Bitty’s blush overtook his entire face as he managed to stutter out his response. “I’m fine, Mama. It’s just from the shower. The water was hot.”

“What plans?” Jack asked, giving Bitty a chance to breathe.

As they ate breakfast, Alicia and Suzanne, who’d become best friends in twelve hours, spoke over each other.

“When Suzanne heard that Bob’s friend Joe Gibbs owns a NASCAR racing team—”

“I just mentioned that NASCAR is Coach’s second favorite sport—”

Bitty looked confused and interrupted his mother. “Coach doesn’t—”

Alicia spoke over Bitty. “That was all Bob had to hear. He called his friend and invited us—”

“—Daytona International Speedway—”

“—We missed yesterday’s events, but there’s today and tomorrow—”

“Leaving soon for the airport—sending his Gulfstream for us—”

Coach barely contained his excitement. “We’ll be sitting in the owner’s pit box. With Joe. Gibbs*.”

“When do we leave?” Bitty sighed, and Jack rubbed Bitty’s thigh, hoping the warm touch said, _It’s okay. We’ll still be together._

Suzanne’s shoulders fell when he asked. “Oh, Dicky, I’m so sorry. We didn’t think you’d want to hang around with a bunch of old people, so we didn’t ask if y’all could come.”

Jack almost punched the air. For the first time since a spot magically opened in rehab, he thanked God his father was famous. Two days together, alone. It would be incredible. No well-intentioned interruptions from helpful parents or spur of the moment plans. He bit back his grin but his fingers tightened on Bitty's thigh.

“I thought y’all’d be ok, but if you want we can call Joe back and--"

"No. We'll be fine." Bitty quickly cut his mother off before that idea gained traction. He slipped his hand across Jack’s thigh, letting his fingers graze over Jack’s fly, where his cock, already half hard, pressed against the denim.

"Well, the jet leaves at noon, and we still have to pack." Suzanne stood and the others followed. “Boys, don’t forget the fireworks tonight. I’ve spoken to Mrs. Burwell, and she said y’all can park down at the bottom of her property. That way, Jack doesn’t have to deal with autograph hunters.”

Alicia and Suzanne kissed the boys and left the restaurant in the direction of the parking lot.

“Enjoy yourselves.” Smiling, Bob clapped Jack and Bitty’s shoulders before he left.

Bitty resisted rubbing his shoulder. “I swear, that’s going to leave a bruise.”

Coach dropped a tip on the table for the waitress and walked with them to the restaurant’s entryway. “No all-night parties or driving drunk. If you’re gonna do something, do it at home. Enjoy yourselves.” He shook Jack’s hand and surprised Bitty by hugging him before he left.

They watched Coach leave before heading back to their room to pack. “That was...odd.” Jack rubbed his chin.

“No, that’s just Coach. He’s never let me go to all-night parties or drive if I’ve even had one beer—”

Once the elevator door closed and they had privacy, Jack said, “Not what he said. How he said it. _If you’re gonna do something_ …”

Bitty laughed at Jack’s naiveté.

“Sweetheart, if there’s one thing Coach is certain does not exist, it’s gay athletes.” He kissed Jack and then swatted his ass. “Let’s get home.” He winked at Jack, who shrugged.

_Could someone be that obtuse?_

_X_

After their parents left for the airport, Jack insisted on some form of exercise. Bitty’s eyes lit up and Jack grinned. “ _No_ , Bittle. Actual exercise where we burn calories and build muscle.”

“Sugar, if you’re not burning calories and building muscles, you aren’t doin’ it right,” Bitty chirped cheekily, and Jack swore they might never leave the house if Bitty continued to wink like that.

“None of your tricks, you siren.” Jack smiled as he left to change into Under Armour shorts and a tank top. Which he did in the bathroom. With a locked door.

They really needed a run, but not on a full stomach. Bitty suggested a bike ride instead. He could show Jack their town, the few historical sights; Jack could try out his new camera.

Within the first mile, Jack had finished his water bottle. “Christ, Bittle, this is horrible. How do you breathe?”

Bitty looked up at the bright sun and laughed. “Wimp. It’s probably only 100 and the humidity doesn’t feel much higher than 90%. It’s like you grew up in the tundra.”

They passed Heritage Hall and then the Rose Cottage, which had something to do with the county’s history but Bitty wasn’t sure what. Jack stopped to take photos of the sculpted gardens and the architecture. Bitty directed them to Main Street, dodging the last of the crowds breaking up after the morning’s annual Independence Day parade. He told Jack the town’s gossip: the one bakery where he learned how to make a perfect meringue, the one-screen cinema where he’d had his first kiss.

_Carter… No, he doesn’t still live here…Jack Zimmermann, are you jealous? You’re adorable._

“Not adorable. Hockey players aren’t adorable,” Jack grumbled as he pedaled faster to force Bitty to chase him.

They stopped for lunch, greasy food and cheese fries and convinced themselves that they’d work the extra calories off with their ride. Jack chose outdoor seating because, even though the air conditioning would be wonderful, he suspected they smelled ripe. In the end, watching Bitty innocently deep-throating his hot dog and bun was worth every last mile Jack would have to run when he returned to Providence.

Bitty led them home, past the hardware store where Coach and other men hung out on Saturday mornings in the off season. “They stand around and talk about power drills and sawzall saws or something. And they grunt a lot. But not the good kind.” He flashed a grin and raced Jack to the garage where they stored the bikes.

Dripping with sweat, Jack insisted on another shower. “Join me?” He grabbed the hem of his t-shirt and slipped it over his head and off, hoping Bitty wouldn’t say no.

Bitty appraised Jack and grinned. “I’m going to put a picnic together for the fireworks tonight. And, sugar, you know I love you, but you stink.”

Jack mock-pouted as he picked up his sweaty shirt from the floor and threw it at Bitty’s face. He ducked away before Bitty could hurl it back.

Jack stood under the hot water, allowing it to batter his shoulders and back. Replayed every touch, every smile from today: When Bitty wiped the ketchup from his face. When he posed so Jack could photograph him in front of the purple clematis that had overtaken a white picket fence.

Bitty saying _You know I love you but_ …

The water ran down Jack’s face, filled his mouth until he sputtered. How had that slipped past him. His throat closed and his heart raced; for the first time in his life, it wasn’t from fear.

When Jack returned to the kitchen, Bitty was dancing to the blaring radio. Jack watched, grinning at how Bitty radiated joy. He wanted to dance with him, wondered if they’d move together like they did on the ice, anticipating each other and knowing they’d do it right.

Jack’s mind presented him with an image of the two of them naked and sweaty, tangled in sheets as he entered Bitty. In a split second the image shifted, Bitty entering him, pushing in beyond the rings of muscles, pulling out and driving in, pounding him… Jack drew a sharp breath and shivered as he felt the heat rise when he imagined it. The radio’s pounding bass became Bitty’s thrusts. _Jésus_ , he didn’t know, didn’t _realize,_ he wanted to be—

Fuck. He was hard again.

“Shower didn’t work?” Bitty asked with a shy smile, and Jack had no idea how long he’d been in his own imagination. But Bitty winked at Jack’s erection pushing at the fabric of his shorts.

“Shower was fine, but you dancing—” Jack smiled back and took Bitty into his arms, brushing his pelvis over Bitty’s thigh. His breath hitched and he knew he needed to stop. Now. “That’s more than any man could ask for.”

Bitty blushed and waggled his finger in the direction of Jack’s shorts. “I could—”

Jack shook his head. “We have plenty of time together. Later.” He sent Bitty to shower and practiced measured breathing before he came in his pants.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The Coke 400 in 2015 was run on July 5th and ended in the early hours of the 6th. I changed the ending time for my own purposes.
> 
> *Joe Gibbs was the coach of the Washington Redskins (pro football team) FOR. EV. ER. and now he owns a NASCAR team. Coach would be HUGELY fangirling over meeting Gibbs. It's my headcanon. :D


	4. July 4th 2015 Fireworks

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There were fireworks. And not just up in the sky.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh my goodness. I'm sorry I didn't publish this yesterday. I had two dr appts with two different kids and it was a 3rd kid's bday! lol. The morning appt was at a hospital, and the only internet I had was on the room's tv. So yes. I was editing pure porn on the TV. in a religious hospital. #winning
> 
> Huge ty to the amazing Crowgirl and ElizaJane without whom, this chapter would have been shorter, bad, and not nearly as much fun.

Bitty had packed both a wicker basket and a cooler and placed them in the flatbed of the pickup. “I know it’s early—the fireworks won’t start til closer to 9. But Mrs. Burwell has a small farm with some goats, and I thought you might want to take pictures.”

It turned out, a country boy’s definition of “small farm and some goats” was _much_ different than a city boy’s expectation. Jack had thought maybe one or two mangy, old goats. Instead, they were greeted by dozens of hopping and prancing kids as they ran along the fence line to follow the truck as it bumped down the dirt road.

Almost before Bitty pulled the truck parallel to the rusty, welded-wire fence, Jack jumped out of the cab with his camera ready to shoot. Bitty pointed out cooperative goats who seemed to pose and Jack clicked picture after picture. What Bitty didn’t realize was that most times, _he_ was the focal point.

Jack changed his camera’s aperture to manual and captured the sunset. The goats in the pink and orange dying light. The strips of fabric that had been inexplicably tied to the rusting metal fence, waiting for a breeze that never came. Bitty. And Bitty. And Bitty again.

Jack climbed up into the flatbed and sat next to Bitty, who’d layered blankets and lit a citronella candle. He’d set out their dinner—nuts and cheese for protein. Small slices of the leftover baguette from the night before that he’d flavored and baked until they were crispy and delicious. A second bottle of the wine Jack’s parents had brought.

For dessert, Bitty had brought fresh, full strawberries, the last of the season. Over-ripe and delicious. Jack held them for Bitty to bite into, and then Jack kissed him, staining their lips red.

Jack held out a strawberry to Bitty, who swirled his tongue around it and sucked on the too-ripe, red tip before he bit into it. Jack threw the rest of the berry into the field and cradled Bitty’s face in his hands, licking into his mouth to taste the juice on Bitty’s tongue.

Jack whimpered and pulled back. Bitty stripped off his shirt as Jack stacked the remains of dinner into the wicker basket and moved it out of the way. He blew out the candle, the wick smoldering in the dark.

Bitty lay on the blanket, his fingers laced beneath his head. His obvious erection tented his shorts.

“I’m glad Mama asked Mrs. Burwell if we could park here. You would have hated being downtown in the crowd.” Bitty’s voice was thick as he slid his hand under the hem of Jack’s shirt, hanging away from his flat belly.

“Yes. Privacy is--” Jack tried to string more words together, but when Bitty’s cupped his own cock and tugged once, twice, Jack surrendered. He lowered himself over Bitty, resting on his knees and forearms

Bitty brushed his hand under Jack’s shirt, then down over Jack’s fly. When Jack whimpered, Bitty scraped his nails back to Jack’s abdomen and higher, to his nipples, hard and scraping against the cotton shirt. Jack’s breathing turned ragged, and he lifted Bitty’s hand before it stroked back down.

For Jack, the universe distilled to this one point of light. Only they existed. Their bodies wanting, connecting. Jack canted his hips and felt Bitty’s cock twitch beneath him.

“You are beautiful.” Jack’s hoarse voice trembled. “Can I take your picture. Like this.”

Bitty’s hair, curled in the humid night air. His brown eyes, innocent and wide. His tongue, tracing his lips and leaving them moist. This was too important only to tuck away in his memories. Lonely moments in Providence or on hellacious, eternal road trips, moments when they’d been separated for days, weeks, eons, when he would question whether this had ever been real or true, he could pull up the jpgs and prove to himself that he hadn’t imagined the slide of their bodies, the pinch or scrape or bite. And it would be almost like Bitty were there. _No, it wouldn’t_. But he could remember the taste of Bitty’s neck, salty with sweat. The fireworks as they crackled and boomed overhead. The juxtaposition of the goats’ bleats and the town’s Sousa march drifting to them.

Sweat ran down Jack’s neck in the still, humid night. He removed his shirt and swiped at the rivulets.

In the distance cheers rose up and carry on the wind. Then the whir and whistle of the rocket as it launched. Jack shifted purposefully and as his cock rolled against Bitty’s, he snapped pictures of the pleasure that played out on Bitty’s face, with the rocket’s red, white, and blue blossoms in the frame. Bitty’s love and his desire were unmistakable, and Jack knew his face would show the same emotions.

Bitty arched up against Jack, begging for friction, his pleas lost in the reports of the fireworks as they exploded. He sat up and pressed their mouths together, kisses scorching their lips. His hand dipped to Jack’s fly. “Let’s go home. I don’t want to do this here.”

Jack didn’t need an explanation; whatever this was, whatever Bitty meant, Jack wanted it.

The humid air blew through the truck’s open windows as they jostled over the old dirt lane, their damp backs tacky against the vinyl seating. Jack watched as Bitty easily navigated the rutted road, confident behind the wheel of the forty-year-old Ford. Add that to the Why Bitty Is Sexy list, Jack thought. Bitty smiled when Jack slid his hand behind his neck, fingertips drawing a line from Bitty’s damp, whispy hair to his shoulder blade that stood too prominent.

“Getting too thin, Bittle. Eat more protein.”

“Mr. Zimmermann, is that your way of telling me to swallow?” Bitty parked the truck in the driveway and turned off the headlights. He winked at Jack, whose heart stumbled when Bitty licked his lips.

Bitty hopped out of the cab and closed his door. “Get a move on. Let’s get inside so I can eat more protein.”

Jack snorted out a laugh as he cranked the window up. He climbed out of the truck, closing the door just as Bitty reached to do it. “Not that kind of protein, Bittle.”

Bitty slid his arms around Jack’s waist and whispered in Jack’s ear. “Sorry to hear that. I was looking forward to going down on you.” And with a tiny growl, Bitty nipped Jack’s earlobe.

Jack whimpered as he thought about Bitty on his knees, swallowing him down. Bitty’s warm mouth, his tongue stroking up and around. Resting his hands in Bitty’s hair. Jack groaned as his cock pressed against his shorts.

Jack spun them around and crowded Bitty against the warmth of the truck’s grill. Cupping Bitty's jaw with his hands, Jack kissed the corner of his lips.

“I’ll never forget telling you to eat more protein when I was leaving last year,” Jack said, his voice gruff. “It’s when I knew…”

Bitty cut Jack off with a heated kiss, tracing his tongue slowly across Jack’s lips, flicking the tip of his tongue against Jack’s. He pushed his thigh against Jack’s cock as he pressed their sweat-damp chests together.

Bitty’s kisses unraveled Jack, spun him out to the edge and twirled him back to the place that is just them alone in the universe. They stilled his mind until the only thought he owned was Eric Bittle. “Need you...” Jack wrapped his hands around Bitty’s small waist and lifted him up. “Higher. Closer.”

Already off the ground, Bitty shook his head. “Not on the truck. It’ll be too hot.”

Jack repositioned his hands and scooped up a giggling Bitty, squirming in his arms. “Mr. Zimmermann, what are you doing?”

With the tip of his tongue, Jack outlined the shell of Bitty’s ear. No longer wiggling, Bitty melted against Jack’s chest.

“Mr. Bittle, I’m taking you to bed,” he whispered into Bitty’s curls as he nuzzled them. His heart stuttered as Bitty looked up at him, looked into his eyes. “I love you.” Jack almost laughed as the truth swelled up and tumbled out. “I know it's too soon, and we haven't been together very long--”

He caressed Bitty’s delicate cheekbone with his thumb, dismissing a passing thought that his calloused fingertips were too rough for such soft skin. For once he wished he had Bitty’s way with words, because there were important things he wanted to say. How Bitty made him better. That he’d changed Jack forever. That he’d never wanted to share himself with anyone before. That he’d never want anyone but Bitty ever again.

“You don't have to say it back, but I wanted--”

Bitty brushed their lips together, then rested his forehead against Jack's chin. “I love you, too,” he said, his voice soft and sure. He draped his arm over Jack’s shoulder and mouthed at his neck, scraping with his teeth until he felt Jack’s shiver. “Take me to bed.”

Jack carried him over the threshold through the door they'd left unlocked. Carried him to Bitty’s childhood bedroom and lay him atop the bedspread in the stripe from the moon’s light. In the distance, neighbors’ fireworks popped and whizzed; firecrackers exploded in sharp snaps.

“You’re beautiful,” Jack whispered. They brushed noses and dropped kisses at the corners of eyes and mouths. Jack held his breath for a moment when Bitty returned to his neck, sucking until a bruise blossomed.

“Fuck, Bits. Don’t mark me where our parents can see.” Jack’s voice was breathy, his accent weaving through his words as he gave himself over to feeling instead of thinking. Instead of backing away, Jack moved closer, allowing Bitty to nip his shoulder and chest. Each time their skin touched, heat flooded his body like a fire that he wanted to fan until it consumed him.

“Take my shorts off.” Bitty's eyes were closed as he breathed the words into Jack’s neck. “Please.” He arched his back and waited for Jack to drag them off.

Jack’s breath shuddered as he dipped his fingers into the elastic waistband. “You’re not wearing underwear.” In response, Bitty grinned and rolled to his back.

Jack removed the shorts and left them on the floor before he climbed on the bed. He straddled Bitty, his knees pressing against Bitty’s hips. Jack ground down, rolling his hips against Bitty’s naked cock, but it wasn’t enough.

Bitty wrapped his hand around the back of Jack’s neck and pulled him into a kiss, needy and impatient, their teeth clacking. “Want to feel you. Take your shorts off,” he panted.

Jack scrambled off the bed to remove his shorts, his fingers fumbling at the button and zipper. “ _Merde_. My fingers aren’t working…”

Bitty stood up and removed Jack’s shaking hands from his shorts. “Let me,” he said with a soft kiss. Then, as he unbuttoned the shorts, Bitty kissed Jack’s chest, edging closer to his hard nipple. Jack whimpered each time Bitty’s mouth pulled back until he slipped his wide hand to the back of Bitty’s head. Jack held him in place, guiding his nipple to Bitty's mouth.

Tongue flicking, teeth grazing. Sucking. The incredible mix of pleasure with a tiny bit of pain brought Jack to his toes each time Bitty allowed his teeth to scrape the hard nub as he sucked. As Bitty’s hands squeezed his ass through the shorts, Jack felt himself rising close, too close to orgasm.

“You have to stop, Bits. You have to.” Jack rasped out his words as he grasped Bitty’s shoulders.

Bitty backed away to watch Jack's cock twitch in his shorts. “What's this?” Bitty asked with a wolfish grin, mouthing at the growing wet spot at the fly of Jack’s tan linen shorts.

“ _Crisse!_ Please. Stop.” Jack trembled, knowing he could come now. “I’ll come and I don't want to yet. I want to--”

Bitty unzipped Jack’s shorts, pushing them down over Jack’s hips and ass so they puddled at Jack’s feet. Jack dropped his own briefs and finally stood, naked, in front of Bitty, his cock flushed and jutting away from his body.

“Do you know how delicious you look right now?” Bitty whispered, wrapping his hand around Jack’s leaking cock. Jack felt overwhelmed by the heat of Bitty’s hand against him; he swore he could feel Bitty’s pulse throbbing in his fingertips, but it might have been his own.

“Get back into bed.” Jack stepped away, reluctant to leave Bitty’s touch. Jack bent over to reach his duffle bag, to pull out the new tube of lubricant and a condom from the box he’d bought just in case. When Bitty whistled a sharp catcall at the beautiful sight, Jack moved his hips in a filthy little circle.

“Fuck, Jack. Come back over here.” Bitty’s voice dropped to the range Jack had grown to love in the past few days.

Jack tossed the lube and wrapped condom on the bed. Bitty’s eyes grew wide when he saw the foil packet. “I’ve never had anything bigger than a finger, but if you want—”

Jack trembled at the image of being inside Bitty and hoped one day he might be, but he shook his head. “I want -- I want you inside me tonight. I want my first time making love to be with you.” Even the words were almost too much. He closed his eyes and waited until he had better control. Until the throbbing diminished, and he could think again.

Bitty’s breath hitched at Jack’s words; he touched Jack’s cheek, sliding his finger to Jack’s mouth. “I--I want--” He swallowed hard, and Jack watched Bitty’s Adam’s apple bob up and down. Finally, Bitty simply nodded.

Jack dropped some of the slick into his palm and stroked Bitty; his cock felt hot to Jack’s touch, and he twisted his wrist at the tip, gathering the precome into his fist. Bitty fucked into Jack’s grasp, his small whimpers like electricity to Jack.

Jack loosened his grasp, pulled away to tear the foil package open with his teeth. He carefully rolled the condom down the shaft, smoothing out air bubbles. By the time Jack finished, Bitty’s body was rigid, his breathing shallow. “You okay, _mon cher_?” Jack asked as he brushed a kiss over Bitty’s cheek.

Bitty swallowed hard and nodded. “Working real hard not to come right now.” Bitty’s voice trembled with need; his hands shook as he gripped the bedspread. Jack lay on the bed next to him and when Bitty said he was able to continue, Jack handed over the tube.

They lay facing each other, kissing each other’s bodies, kissing each other frantically. Jack’s need felt overwhelming, his desire to have Bitty as close as possible. To have him fuck in and pull out over and over.

Bitty squeezed the slick onto his fingers; he moved his hand past Jack’s leaking cock down to his hole, teasing the tight opening. Once, a long time ago, Kent had fingered him. It was dry and fast and it hurt like hell. Jack had never wanted to repeat the experience. But this felt full and hot and incredible and _toomuchandjustenough_ all at the same time. Bitty’s slick fingers were a torment, pressing in and pulling back until one finger was fully inside.

Jack strangled a moan and curved his body against Bitty’s hand, taking him further inside. “Fuck, that feels--more-- _please_.”

Bitty slid another in slowly; Jack grabbed him, dragged him down into another kiss and pushed back onto the fingers, rode them, the slip and suck of the sound electrifying him.

“Fuck me, _Crisse_ , fuck me.” Jack’s voice broke as he begged.

Bitty pulled out and Jack whimpered from the loss, from the separation. “Please.”

“Just need more lube, sweetheart.” Bitty squeezed a generous amount onto his fingers and slid all three slowly back in place. Jack could feel a slight burn as Bitty’s knuckles pushed past the tight ring of muscle, and the pull and stretch as Bitty opened and closed his fingers, working him open.

“Bitty. _Please_.” Jack’s voice broke as he pleaded.

“Roll over, baby.” Bitty nudged Jack onto his back. “I want to see you, and I want you to see me.”

Bitty disentangled himself long enough to find the lube. When he did, he wrapped his slick fingers around his cock; Bitty closed his eyes and dropped his head back as he pulled his hand up to the tip then back down.

Jack’s eyes were heavy-lidded, his pupils large as he watched Bitty stroke himself. With a moan, Jack reached around and slipped his finger inside himself. He was slick and stretched and when he clenched his ass around his fingers, he couldn’t wait any longer.

“Please.” Jack urged Bitty, who positioned himself on top. Jack shuddered at the press of the blunt head pushing in. He willed himself to relax, to breathe through the pain of Bitty’s cock moving past the first tight ring of muscles.

Jack had wanted Bitty inside, faster, harder, more. But Bitty felt huge inside him, and fuck, it goddamn hurt. He remembered what he'd read--to breathe in. Out. In. Out.

“You ok, sweetheart?” When he was fully inside, Bitty dropped from his palms to rest on his forearms. stroked Jack’s hair as they kissed.

Jack nodded, breathless and his heart felt like it was beating faster than he could count. “You can move now. I think.” He smiled, and as Bitty rolled his hips, Jack gasped. “Jesus, fuck! Do that again.”

Bitty found the angle and thrust again and again, each time hitting Jack’s prostate, until Jack cried out in Quebecois.  _God you’re so good, so good. I love you, please don’t stop. Don’t stop._

Jack kissed Bitty, and it was rough and teeth and hard to breathe and it was amazing, and when Jack came between their sweat soaked bodies, his hands grabbed Bitty’s ass, holding him inside.

Jack wanted Bitty to buck inside of him, to hold him down and pound him, but Bitty won’t allow it. He doesn’t want to hurt Jack. Instead his movements were small and forceful. Bitty’s rhythm stuttered and when he came inside Jack, it was with _I love you I love you I love you_ on his lips.

They lay together, neither moving except for shallow breaths and light kisses. Their emotions were spent as were their bodies, wrung out in the best way.

Bitty collapsed on top of Jack and though he weighed almost nothing, it was too much when every nerve in Jack’s body snapped and sizzled. He tapped Bitty, who rolled over onto the bed, still panting. His body was blotchy red and messy from Jack’s orgasm, and to Jack, Bitty had never looked more beautiful than that moment.

“You ok?” Bitty asked when he could speak. “I didn’t hurt you, did I?” He took Jack’s hand in his, lacing their fingers and squeezing gently.

Jack couldn’t speak, didn’t know how to explain what he felt when Bitty had pressed inside. Full and happy and dizzy, without breath or sight. Jack slipped his arm under Bitty’s head and curled him in as tightly as he could.

“I love you.” Jack whispered the words into Bitty’s curls as he nuzzled them.

Bitty rubbed his nose against Jack's chest, half of a kiss. "Me too you."


	5. July 5-6, 2015

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Four times Suzanne pretended to be clueless, and the one time Coach didn't.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Since I missed yesterday, I'm also going to post ch 5 today. I hope you enjoyed it! I've written others, and I would appreciate it if you'd take a peek!
> 
> You can find me on [Twitter](https://twitter.com/Burning_Up_) and on [Tumblr](http://burning-up-ao3.tumblr.com/). I'd share my FB but then you'd see how boring a PTA mom I really am :D

They slept and explored one another, snacking in bed because neither wanted to waste a minute of their dwindling time together.

When Suzanne texted that the plane was ready to take off, Bitty tugged Jack out of bed. “Go shower. You look like you’ve had sex for two days straight.” He laughed and slapped Jack’s naked ass, which Jack wiggled for good measure. Bitty’s giggles accompanied Jack to the bathroom.

Bitty changed the sheets and opened the window to air the room. He took the trash to the outdoor bins and took a shower after Jack.

Their parents walked into the kitchen after midnight, laughing and talking over each other. They told stories about the race, the drivers, pit road. Only once did Bitty’s mother ask how they’d managed to entertain themselves for two days on their own.

“So many _historic_ things to do here,” Jack answered without lying. “I see why you love it. There’s so much more I’d like to do.”

Bitty sniggered and covered it up by gulping water, which went down the wrong way and he sputtered and coughed, pounding on his chest.

“Goodness, Dicky.” His mom said, concern written over her face as she patted his back. “Be careful how you swallow.”

Which only made Bitty cough harder.

 

                                                                                             _X_

Jack and Bitty laid out sleeping bags on the living room floor after insisting that the Zimmermanns take Bitty’s room. The parents, who’d been too exhausted from their trip to stay awake one minute longer, turned in shortly after they returned home.

Jack and Bitty lay face to face for most of the night, soft kisses punctuating conversations.

“I have to leave today.” Jack whispered it into Bitty’s hair, just before dawn, in between _I love you_ s.

“I hate that you have to go.” Bitty said as he held Jack tighter, as if he could magically keep him there. “I understand, but is it ok if I hate it?”

Jack raised Bitty’s chin, to look into his eyes. “Stay with me. After you’re done with your camp job, drive up and stay with me until school starts. I bought the condo because of the kitchen. The realtor said it was state-of-the- _ooofff_ —”

Bitty kissed the words out of him. Jack figured that meant yes, which made him grin wider than a person should at six in the morning. Jack told him the places he’d discovered in Providence so far, and the places he’d saved to see with Bitty.

As they talked, the sun crept up and through the windows where they’d forgotten to close the drapes the night before. Bitty declared it the last straw for getting any sleep, and hiked his shorts over his underwear. He pulled his tank top on and helped Jack stand up. “Fresh blueberry muffins for breakfast?"

Jack brewed the pot of coffee, and when it finished, he poured himself a cup and leaned back against the counter and watched Bitty mix and measure and hum and bake. Jack pictured him in the Providence kitchen, dancing and singing, and knew the truth in his soul: this is love. How he shivered when he watched Bitty, touched him, listened to his voice. How his heart fluttered, tapped out a rhythm that should be impossible but became a soundtrack to their life.

Once upon a time, he needed pills to feel _this_ amazing. _No. It never really came close to this_. Jack grinned around his mug, and Bitty cocked his head to ask _what?_ But he couldn’t explain it, so instead Jack simply raised his coffee in salute.

The aroma of fresh baked muffins wafted up the hall, luring the parents from their beds. The Zimmermanns would leave today, and Jack decided to take their offer of a ride as far as Providence.

As they ate, they made plans for everyone to meet in October and attend the Falconers home-opener.

“Eric, maybe you could cook dinner for us there,” Bob said as he took a giant bite of his over-buttered muffin.

When the first dozen muffins disappeared, Bitty offered to begin a second batch, but Alicia begged off, saying they needed to get on the road. Bob brought their bags out to the car; Alicia and Suzanne followed him and stood outside chatting.

Jack grabbed his bag from the living room, overwhelmed with the things he wanted to say but couldn’t find the voice for. _I love you_ didn’t begin to cover how much he needed and wanted and liked and loved Bitty. And how he didn’t know if he could last ‘til August.

Bitty wrapped his arms around Jack’s waist and stood on tip-toe to kiss him. “We’ll Skype every night, sweetheart. And I’ll be there before you know it.”

They jumped apart at a clatter and a cuss from the kitchen before Coach pushed through the swinging door into the living room, drying his hands on a dish towel. “Well, confound it, Junior. I shouldn’t be allowed to wash dishes. I broke another coffee mug.”

Jack and Bitty laughed with relief, thankful they’d had warning enough to separate.

Coach cleared his throat as he shoved the dish towel in his back pocket. “You might want to make sure you both thank Suzanne. You know, she, uh—so y’all could—” Coach waved his hand between them and said, “I’m gonna—” and he left to join Suzanne at the car.

Jack tilted his head as he considered Coach’s words and came to the only possible conclusion.

He snickered as he turned back to Bitty: “They. Know.” Then he chortled. Jack laughed until he was doubled over, gasping out breaths.

“Jack Laurent Zimmermann. What do you mean!” Bitty stood with his fists on his hips, his face turning red with anger.

Jack wheezed as he tried to talk. “Bittle, everything your mother did was to give us time. Going to some cousin’s party. Inviting my parents here—”

“That’s just good manners, sweetheart.” Bitty’s voice wavered, no longer quite sure as he thought over Jack’s words.

“And flying to Daytona Beach for a NASCAR race?” Jack raised an eyebrow as he asked, stomach still quivering from laughter after-shocks.

“You know—” Bitty frowned; Jack saw him adding up the evidence. “I don’t think I’ve ever heard my dad even mention NASCAR except in passing.” He giggled suddenly and hid his face in his palms. “Oh God, Jack! They know!”

Jack tugged on Bitty’s arm. “It’s time to pay the piper.”

With a final kiss that was meant to hold them another month, Bitty grabbed Jack’s bag and led the way outside. He handed it to Jack and kissed his mama. She smiled and slid her arm around his waist and hugged him.

Jack shook Coach’s hand and thanked him for his hospitality. Then he hugged Suzanne and kissed her cheek.

“Goodness gracious, Jack, what was that for?” She beamed, pleased by his unexpected affection.

“For everything.” He winked at Bitty over her shoulder. “Bittle—Eric—is a wonderful person. He’s kind and intuitive and...I see where he gets it from. Thank you.” His voice broke as she gasped in realization.

“I’d do anything to help my son be happy.” Her words were simple, but Jack felt the full weight of the responsibility.

“I will, too,” Jack whispered in her ear, holding her tighter as he grinned at Bitty. “You have my word.”


End file.
